An unexpected night encounter

‘And so, the great paladins are on the hunt!’ said Philip.

‘Please. Just stop.’

He looked at his companion. Her auburn hair perfectly encapsulated the permanent annoyed expression on her face.

‘Come on, Alethia. Live a little.’

‘I would want to live a little. Instead, we’re hunting what’s probably a family of night foxes who eat a sheep once every two weeks,’ she said with a scoff. ‘I though we’d be given a real mission. Not this… this joke.’

‘Hey, the glass is half full. We’re on a mission after all.’ He wanted to try and reassure her, but, to be said, she was not wrong.

When the Old Paladin called them, he was so happy to be given his first mission after passing the final test. Then they were sent to the faraway village of Placehold.

‘Half full? Did you hear that farmer and his accent trying to explain to us that he had twenty sheep and then he lost two and so he had sixteen sheep?’

‘Well… subtractions are not easy.’

She scoffed. It was about the thirtieth time she did. Sums are easier, thought Philip.

‘Listen, Philip, I don’t want to be a second-class Paladin. I do not fucking deserve it!’

‘You won’t be one. This is just our first mission. We’ll get to the Academy safely after solving this problem. Trust me.’

She just ignored him and kept wading forward in the undergrowth. The mail clanged for each step they took, echoing under the canopy of the short trees.

‘Any way, let’s think about the problem. One sheep each two week. Whoever the predator is, it is capable of self constraint indeed.’

‘Yeah. It’s a smart fox. How lucky I am.’

‘And, its a predator that prefers the woods. This narrows it. Are we sure it’s not Ur-Men?’

‘No, it cannot be sentient monkeys,’ she finally stopped scoffing. ‘The villagers would have heard them in the night. They have a tendency to make themselves known. And it cannot be a bear or a lynx either. They’d devour the sheep where it stands. And surely they’d devour more than one.’

‘And they’d leave more entrails around…’

‘Yes, that too. Good job, Philip’ she finished.

They kept walking. ‘So, we are sure it’s foxes.’

‘Yes’ she said.

‘And are we sure it’s not…’

‘I hope not’ she cut him off. ‘They would have sent hunters if it was another Paladin, no?’

‘Yes, for sure’ he continued. ‘But, let’s say the beast is another Paladin… what do we do?’

She smiled. ‘We earn our pay.’

The flame danced in the night. The air was heavy, weighing on her head like a tight circlet. She could see shadows moving at the edge of the bonfire’s reassuring light. She was keeping watch, still with her mail and her gilded sword just by her side. Alethia of the Ironforge house. She would have never though she’d end up hunting foxes as a Paladin.

She unsheathed her sword and reflected the flame’s light on the blade, lost in thought. The golden hilt was magnificent, a true work of art, with a splendid pear-shaped pommel. A novelty. Just for her. Just for me. And yet here she was: away from her family after her Mother decided to send her to the Academy. A life of deprivation. A life as a mercenary. She looked at her face reflected in the sword… Wait, what…

The man sat beside her. In his hand a dagger that looked like a long tooth. She jumped up and pointed the sword at him.

‘Who… what?’ she tried to say. Her heart was exploding in her chest, as she started breathing harder and harder.

‘Scared of seeing other people in the night?’ the man said, calmly. He was still sat down. Alethia saw Philip groaning and yawning as he woke up.

‘Fucking get up,’ she yelled. ‘There is someone!’

Philip looked at the man beside the fire in absolute awe. He stuttered something before fumbling about trying to reach any weapon.

‘Please, there is no need to. I do not want to hurt you.’

‘Well, good for you,’ she snarled, ‘but we do. You’ve eaten your fair share of sheep.’

The man laughed. He laughed in her face. She gripped the hilt of her sword, hard.

‘I’m sure those villagers can make do without some of their sheep, can’t they? And that the Academy can do without you bringing them my head.’ The man looked at her belt, where she carried her pouch of spice, an unusually long amount of time.

‘So you are a deserter’ said Philip, who apparently still had not found his axe and shield.

The man turned to look at him. ‘That is one way to put it.’ She slowly raised the point of her sword. He was distracted. ‘By the way,’ he suddenly turned towards her again, ‘name’s Paulo.’ He looked straight in her eyes.

Her heart kept thumping like the sound of rain in a stormy night. ‘Why did you desert?’ she managed to ask.

He simply shrugged. ‘I did not want to keep squirming for the Old Paladin.’

‘Ah, I see. A revolutionary!’ said Philip in a weirdly enthusiastic way. ‘I heard someone managed to run away some months ago. The hunter are looking for you.’

‘Thankfully, you are not hunters,’ he said, still looking at her. He feigned calmness, but his knuckles were white from holding his dagger tight.

‘We are not’ said Alethia, and dropped her point. No sense in doing something harsh now. He could have killed them earlier. She knew perfectly well what was he after.

‘Oh no, we are not. We thought you were a night fox. A voracious one, to be fair’ said Philip, smiling. Paulo laughed. ‘Really? That was made you laugh? By the Principles, you must have been deprived of company for long.’

Alethia smiled softly. A measured smile. What were she to do now?

Paulo tried to be calm. To be affable. To be in control. But he saw the girl’s accusing gaze. He just was so, so desperate for some spice. For a little spice soup. Just some spice. For him. A pinch, a pinch after months. The first month was the worst. Somehow, the second month was even worse than the worst. He was spacing out. The Night… was so heavy. The ginger man with the blood-smile waved. Who was he talking to? Focus, Paulo. ‘So, any way… kind fellow Paladins…’

‘You want some spice, don’t you?’ said the girl.

‘Alethia, I believe I can spare some’ replied Philip. ‘You must be in pain.’

‘Heh. Pain actually subsumed. That does not mean I will refuse your kind offer’ replied Paulo.

The girl, Alethia, kept looking suspiciously at him. Her eyes tried to read straight inside his soul. He played with the dagger in his hand. Even if he was certainly more experienced… without the spice… and with the Night making him hallucinate… but they were young. So young. Maybe they would understand. He hoped they would. Behind him, he heard the boy opening a pouch. He turned. Finally…

‘Stop, Philip.’

Paulo froze.

‘Alethia?’

‘Maybe it is better if our… friend does not get any spice. After all, the worst part of the withdrawal symptoms is past him. If we gave it to him…’

Paulo turned towards her. His head spun. ‘You’ve never been in the deprivation room, haven’t you?’ The dagger’s hilt hurt his palm. ‘No one of you three has ever been in one, right?’ he insisted. The girl took a step back, looking at him with a sneer. ‘You’ve never talked with demons. You’ve never seen monsters making a meal of your entrails. You’ve never felt a thousand of needles piercing your face.’

Someone touched him. He swung with the dagger.

The boy dodged just in time. He had a cup, with a steaming liquid inside, and that sweet, familiar, delicious smell of rot.

Paulo breathed in. ‘Sorry.’ Philip handed him the cup. Even he was wary now. Paulo got it and just drank it. Disgusting. Sour. Finally. He drank it all. He could sense his brain relaxing. The ginger man with the blood smile became transparent. He knew it.

‘Good reflexes, though.’ He gave the cup back to the boy. ‘Sorry.’

‘Are you… better now?’ asked the suspicious girl again.

‘Yes. Are you from Primia?’ replied Paulo.

‘...Argute.’

‘It’s easy to recognise a Primian woman. Authoritative, insightful, smart. Unlike Philip.’

The boy laughed. ‘She’s the smart one, true.’

The girl just stayed silent.

‘Listen, thank you for the spice… and for not killing me.’ Paulo sat on a small tree stump. ‘But I was a Paladin. And I know what you’re thinking. Paladins must always bring back the prey.’ He smiled. ‘And here it is.’ He threw his dagger at the girl’s feet. ‘This is the dagger I used to gut the cattle. It’s the fang of an Ur-Bear. Get the hilt off, and you have your prey.’

Aletheia sneered. ‘And you think the Old Paladin will not be suspicious?’

‘Well, if you’re good, you can kill an Ur-Bear. I killed one by myself. Unless he sent you here because you’re nothing more than a fox hunter.’

‘Uh oh. You should not have said that,’ said Philip. Paulo saw the girl’s face reddening.

‘I. Am. Not. A fox hunter.’ She got in a forward stance with her sword.

Paulo unsheathed his curved sword. He had a flat buckler strapped just under his tunic, just in case. ‘Nah. You could have killed me earlier. But not now.’ His reflexes were as sharp as when he took the spice daily. All around him was clear. And they were green.

‘Woah, please, calm down!’ intervened Philip. ‘There is no need to fight at this point. Please, just lower your weapons. Or even better, drop them.’

‘You’re a good guy,’ said Paulo, and lowered his sabre, waiting for Aletheia to do the same. She did, reluctantly.

‘And Aletheia…’ said the boy, ‘Maybe the Old Paladin prefers a deserter’s head to night foxes. But… an Ur-Bear’s fang is a good next candidate.’